


how you feel in my hands

by Realm



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (kinda), Coming Untouched, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 05:22:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14073795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Realm/pseuds/Realm
Summary: Steve keeps his eyes on Bucky like he hung the moon, face wet, both hands moving so smooth and slick and slow on himself. He’s got all his fingers wrapped around his cock now, trembling, and his hips are moving intermittently, bucking up an inch or so when he really can’t control himself.Steve’s vision blurs ’til all he can see is the steel grey of Bucky’s eyes.





	how you feel in my hands

**Author's Note:**

> *yelling at the sky* why cant i write fic that isn't just really avid hand jobs inspired by a pornhub video????
> 
>  
> 
> also i guess i cant write smut without one character seemingly in pain, but i promise that steve is enjoying this and everything is safe and sane and consensual and bucky takes good care of him. poor boy just gets overwhelmed sometimes.
> 
> title from pretty girl by clairo
> 
> (also tw i guess theres like 1 line of slight feminization dirty talk)

Steve’s so hard, his hands are shaking.

His hands are slippery with lube, almost too much from the way it’s dripping off his fingers. He strokes his cock again, slow and hard and deliberate, and, _god_ , his whole body is trembling, shivers wracking his frame like he weighs 90 pounds again and he's under the covers with a burning fever. He feels like he's drowning, water filling his lungs, but it's so good.

He pulls in a heaving, sobbing breath, quiet but stark in the silent room. Bucky hums from where he’s sat in an armchair next to the bed.

Steve tears his blurry gaze away from himself to look up. Bucky smiles a bit, relaxed and in control like he’s watching a football game instead of Steve edging himself to the point of desperation. He runs a warm hand over Steve’s calf, soothing the muscles that are strained and quivering, even down to his toes.

“Bucky.” Steve breathes out, a half sob.

It’s been maybe a half hour since they’ve started, but to Steve that feels like an eternity. Normally, he can jerk off and finish in 3 minutes flat, just his right hand and some saliva slicking it up. But Bucky didn’t want that this time.

Bucky made him do this. Stroke himself slowly, slowly, slowly, lubed up and slippery and never allowed to speed up his hand, while Bucky watched, not touching Steve, not where it counted. It’s absolutely maddening, because this agonizing squeeze on his cock has Steve’s calloused fingers catching on his skin, the sensitive frenulum and the throbbing head and sliding over the tight foreskin. Steve can't decide whether keeping his grip feather-light or strangling hard feels worse, and he constantly alternates. Tries to regain his breath, to soothe himself with a gentle grip that barely grazes the soft skin of his dick, but it only takes a second every time before he’s overrun with need and arousal and tightens his fist with a pained grunt.

God. God, its too much, his body screaming at him, instincts feeling warped and wrong. He remembers when he first got the serum, and he was hard almost constantly— having to sneak away to dressing rooms and back alleys and rubbing one out with a painfully dry grip, fist a blur. A dozen times a day when it was particularly bad.

And here he is— balls pulsing with the slam of his heart against his ribs, hips and legs and thighs trembling so hard that Steve is, alarmingly, reminded of the way a body shakes during a seizure, muscles roiling. He’s so hard. His skin hurts. He wants to sink into the feeling, let it devour him, let his mind float away somewhere in the stars.

“Slower, Stevie.” Bucky chides, looking all-too-relaxed in his jeans and tee while Steve is laid bare. His erection strains against his zipper, Steve can see that, but Bucky doesn’t seem remotely bothered. His gaze is hot and warning where it rests on Steve’s hands.

“Ah-“ Steve gasps out, head thrown back, neck straining and teeth bared. His eyebrows furrow as a few tears leak out, shaking left hand fumbling against his slippery balls, cupping and rolling and tugging to stave off the building feeling, the stretching elastic of the tension inside him being pulled so tight he knows it’s going to snap soon. His other hand grips the shaft of his cock, squeezing— not moving, or else he'd come on the spot.

“Don’t stop now, c’mon.” Says Bucky.

Steve feels like crying, like breaking down and sobbing. His lower lip quivers pathetically as he peels his eyes open, tilts his head against the pillow to watch where he strokes himself. He feels like he’s being electrocuted, like someone’s pressing the end of a stun baton into his abdomen. For every second it lasts he’s thinking, it must be over soon, he’s gonna be set free soon, gonna be given release— but it just keeps fucking slamming him.

The thing is, though— the thing is, that Steve likes it.

He likes it just as much as Bucky does. It's maddening, especially since, if he were doing this alone, his self-control would have caved long ago and he’d have finished already, but because Bucky’s here he’s keeping him strung out and on the edge. But Steve likes it, so much, loves the slick slide over his sensitized cock, the quivering in his thighs and stomach and fingers. Loves how the relentlessly slow pace leaves the feeling a thousand times more magnified than if Steve were just jerking off like he does normally. It’s so good, and he can barely breathe around it, and it feels like someone has knotted rope around his lungs and squeezed, that’s how close he is.

“Nnngh, uhh, mm—“ Steve thinks distantly he should be embarrassed by the sounds he’s making, desperate wet gasps and groans in the quiet room, but he can’t even fuckin’ hear himself over the pounding of his ears.

He can’t help watching, face flushed, as he makes a ring with his thumb and pointer finger, right underneath the head where the foreskin’s tugged down, keeping the rest of his fingers off his length. He slowly, tremblingly slides the O of his fingers down his shaft, soft fingers slippery and teasing. He doesn’t move them far, just strokes up and down the first few inches below the head, then brings his fingers back up, pulling the foreskin over the flared crown of his cock. Bumps the head with his fingers, and—

“Ah! _Ahhhhhhh…_ ” Fuck. It’s so overwhelming that there’s tears clumping his eyelashes, and he blinks rapidly, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight. He watches, thighs twitching and then helplessly opening wider, as the inflamed pink head is swallowed up by his foreskin, shiny and wet. Watches as he pulls back down, fingers too weak and slippery to bring his foreskin as far down as he normally can, past the head, but enough that the weeping slit is revealed. As Steve stares, it blurts out a drop of precum, mixing instantly with the lube around it.

“Mmm, Bucky, ah, fuck— Bucky? Bucky.” Steve blabbers, eyebrows furrowed helplessly, but he doesn’t look at his boyfriend. Can’t tear his gaze away. Instead, he clumsily reaches for his balls, stilling the hand on his cock because then it really would be too much— and just strokes his sac, rubbing shaky fingers over the tight skin.

“You’re doin’ great, sweetheart. Look’it you, what a fuckin’ vision. Prettiest thing I ever saw.” 

Steve’s breath comes faster, and now he looks away, throws his head to the side so he can gaze up at Bucky next to him, cheek pressed into the pillow. He feels his lips slide with drool and knows he probably looks wrecked, tears on his face, but Steve really, really doesn’t care. 

Bucky smiles indulgently. He leans forward, right next to the bedside, and runs a hand over Steve’s sweaty forehead, smoothing his hair back. Steve whines.

“Right here, gorgeous. So sweet like this. Never seen you want it this bad, Christ.” Steve’s eyes stay on Bucky’s face, drinking him up as Bucky’s gaze flickers away, down to where Steve’s touching himself, then back up. The cool blue just shoots through Steve, burns him like lightning. “Your pretty balls are all drawn up, so tight you can barely even see ‘em. Looks like you’ve got a cunt down there, Stevie, like a girl's.” 

Steve whimpers, open-mouthed. Bucky’s dirty talk has always been something else, but that image jolts Steve, makes him flush hot with embarrassment— he knows it’s true, that his balls are drawn up flush to his body ’til they’re barely visible behind Steve’s cock. But he’s humiliated anyways, eyes fluttering, mouth opening and closing as he tries to turn away from Bucky in shame.

“Nuh uh, baby. Don’t be shy, now. Eyes on me, okay? Don’t you look away from me.” Bucky’s voice is gentle, but hard, and Steve wouldn’t think of disobeying him in a thousand years. He turns his head back, stares up at Bucky again, even as his face burns and his stomach crawls with embarrassment. He’s got worship in his eyes.

“Good thing. Sweet thing. You need more lube?” Bucky asks, and Steve doesn’t even fuckin’ register the question. Just keeps his eyes on Bucky like he hung the moon, face wet, both hands moving so wet and slick and slow on himself. He’s got all his fingers wrapped around his dick now, other hand still down on his straining balls, and his hips are moving intermittently, bucking up an inch or so when he really can’t control himself. Steve’s vision blurs ’til all he can see is the steel grey of Bucky’s eyes.

They flick away for a second as Bucky turns, then come back up. “Nah, you’re good. Real wet down there.” 

Steve’s toes curl, and he squeezes down hard on his shaft, stroking up agonizingly slow. More precum blurts out onto his knuckles. 

“Bucky.” Steve breathes, a quiet sob. He doesn’t even know why he’s saying it— what he’s asking for. But it’s the only word he can think of, overwhelmed.

Steve’s breath is heaving. His fingers are shaking like a leaf where they glide over his dick, over the head and back down again, pulling the foreskin. There’s lube all over his inner thighs and the trimmed hair at the base of his cock, and Steve can feel his balls jerk rhythmically where he holds them clumsily in his hand. He can’t even get a grip on them now, that’s how far up they are against his body, most of his sac tight inside him. The pad of Steve’s thumb traces a line up and down his shaft, light and teasing, with every pull of his hand.

“You wanna come, sweet thing?” Bucky asks, pink tongue peeking out and whetting his lips.

Steve feels like he’s choking, the words hard to understand in the fog of his brain. Ten minutes ago, he’d have said yes, _begged_ for it, cursed Bucky out— but now, he’s not so sure. He doesn’t even feel like he’s on the edge anymore; he feels like his whole body is lit up, muscles quivering, like half of him’s suspended in an everlasting orgasm.

“Nuh— I don’t,” now Steve’s face screws up, tears really flowing now around a sob as he whimpers out, “I don’t know? Please, I don’t know—“ 

“Shhh.” Bucky sighs, quieting him, and he’s smiling a bit now, satisfied. He runs a soothing hand over Steve’s sweaty, heaving chest, and Steve’s hand doesn’t stop moving on his dick, unconsciously, but he leans into the touch desperately.

“That’s it. That’s what I wanna hear, baby. Givin’ in. Just for me.” Bucky coos, and shifts, looking away from Steve to watch where he strokes himself, eyes dark. “But, look, Stevie, look how hard you are. Look how red your sweet cock is. Your head is up in the clouds right now, huh, but I think your body wants to come real bad.”

Steve can’t really understand him. All he hears is the tidal wave of Bucky’s voice, washing over him, tugging him under. Even with Bucky looking away, Steve keeps his eyes glued to his face— his anchor.

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “Steve. Look.” 

Steve registers that as an order, and fuck, he lets out an embarrassing, raspy sound, loud and wordless and desperate in refusal. He can’t. He can’t look at where he’s touching himself or he’ll shatter into a thousand pieces.

“Shh—“ Bucky says over Steve’s humiliating noises, quieting him like he’s calming a wild animal. “You can do it. Just look, okay? I want you to see somethin’. Do it for me, gorgeous.”

Steve’s gasping now, trying so hard to obey but also terrified of losing his tether, the cool blue eyes holding him above the surface. His decision is made for him, though, when a hand comes up and takes his chin, turning his head forcibly. The grip isn’t harsh, but it’s hard and penetrating, and Steve groans, letting the feeling of Bucky’s clutch hold him together like he’s holding onto Steve’s heart, keeping the pieces together and in their right place. Bucky tilts his head forward and down, positioning him, and Steve blinks, trying to clear his vision so he can see what Bucky wants to show him.

“Want you to watch, sweet thing. Look. See how desperate it is?” And— yes, Steve sees, sees his own body before him and it’s almost shameful, how strung out he looks, his cock flushed red and his hands shaking. As he looks on, the thick length of his dick twitches, jerks a bit, as if copying the way Steve normally jacks himself off, hard and stimulating. Trying to replicate the pumping motions to get itself off.

Steve feels like he’s floating somewhere outside of his body. Vaguely, he’s aware of the throbbing need of his cock and the burning heat so desperate it’s painful in his abdomen, but his mind is somewhere else. Like he’s drifting between clouds, weightless, and Bucky’s got a string tied to his ankle to keep him from floating away.

“Your poor cock is gonna ache for days after this, it looks like. Look at it.” Bucky murmurs, looking down at where Steve’s hand is moving, squeezing, gently, the pleasure slow and cresting. Steve whimpers.

“I think...” Bucky’s voice is slightly breathless now. “Think it’s gonna make itself come all on its own. Won’t it, Stevie?” Bucky asks, and he looks up to meet Steve’s glazed over stare, smiling like they’re watching ducks in a pond. 

Bucky reaches down, gently taking a hold of Steve’s hand and tugging it away from his cock. Steve _groans_ , painful and confused, and his hand jolts and jerks in Bucky’s grip as the feeling rolling through him gets more intense— _no, no, what is he doing?_ But Bucky steadies him with little effort, because Steve’s boneless and uncoordinated.

“C’mon, Steve. You’re good, you’re gonna be so good. Let go for me. You can do it.” Bucky murmurs, encouraging, as he holds Steve’s hands to his sides, other hand still holding Steve by the chin, both of them staring down between Steve’s quivering legs.

Steve doesn’t know what Bucky wants, too strung out to understand, but it’s as if his body follows Bucky’s lead anyways. The length of his cock jerks, throbs heavily, the thick part at the back pulsing in one smooth motion, base to tip. His whole cock sways forward a bit with the pressure, and Steve’s flexing his lower abdomen muscles _hard_ , clenching and unclenching, making his cock bob forward again and again.

“Oh, baby. doin’ so well. Christ, you’re gonna come untouched, just for me, aren’t you?” Bucky’s saying, low and encouraging, letting go of Steve’s jaw to stroke his sides, and Steve blinks back more tears. Watches helplessly, hands clenched into shaky fists where Bucky grips them, as his cock throbs again, muscles coaxing the release pent up in him. A hard jerk, abdomen squeezing and bearing down, urging his climax.

Suddenly, Steve is unbearably, shockingly close. It’s as if he’s been floating through thick fog, and it’s just blown away to reveal him standing with his toes to the edge of a cliff. Unexpected, feet slipping against the edge, his stomach dipping and his heart racing.

“No, no, Bucky, I’m gonna- no!” Steve panics, voice hoarse. He feels like he’s gonna break apart, explode like a shattering star, breaking this smooth, devouring wave of pleasure. He’s scared, but he wants it so bad. It hurts, and he’s bearing down on his cock without using his hands, and his muscles ache where they’re sending rhythmic pulses down his lower body and out through his cock. His balls draw tight. 

Steve’s shaking so hard that it looks like his cock is vibrating. Another throb. Coaxing the edge closer and closer. Bucky’s talking, low and soothing words of encouragement, but Steve’s rambling over him, senseless and panicked. He’s so close, electricity shooting down his spine, and he needs it, can’t stay teetering on the edge like this, but at the same time he’s childishly scared to give in. 

One more clench of his muscles, a pulse rolling through his dick, swaying it forward. “It’s okay, Stevie, it’s okay, you’re so good, just let it happen. Let go, baby, do it for me,” Bucky murmurs, and finally, _finally_ Steve comes.

His world whites out. His body freezes, the tidal wave hitting him, roaring in his ears and burning him up from the inside out. Someone’s making noises, broken, gasping sobs, but Steve can’t hear. Warm wetness spills from his throbbing cock onto his bare skin, over and over, an endless stream, pleasure rolling through him in waves, and he can feel every nerve ending in his body but it’s so much that he feels like he’s breaking apart.

He can’t tell if his eyes are open or closed, and his cock is unloading on its own and every time he thinks it’s done it pulses again. It feels seismic, like an earthquake, and it hurts so good.

“Good god, Stevie, sweetheart, so good, so fuckin’ pretty, that’s good, just let it out, baby.” Steve hears, as he slowly, slowly comes down to earth. He feels his heartbeat in his cock, spent and aching and sensitive, and he’s like a bug under a microscope, pinned down and laid bare. Every fiber of his being exposed.

Warm fingertips on his chin, tilting him up gently ’til Bucky’s face slides into view. Steve’s shaking from exertion now, overstimulation, and there are tear tracks on his cheeks, but Steve can’t figure out why Bucky looks so concerned. 

“Everything okay, Stevie? Feel good?”

Steve blinks hazily. His body’s being wracked with slow tremors. Bucky’s blue eyes are the only thing he can make sense of, bright even as black dots dance around in his vision.

“Hurts, so good. So good. Love you, Buck,” And then he lets exhaustion consume him.

**Author's Note:**

> comments make me happy


End file.
